Shinigami
by Wildwolf
Summary: Death and mention of rape. Muraki muses whilst killing someone- really short. Was morbid while writing...


**Shinigami**

Author: Wildwolf

Rating: PG-13

Genre: General

Warnings: Talk of death and mentioned rape

Disclaimer: I am so bad at putting these~! I don't own them! Or Tsuzuki and Hisoka would have kissed by now, and blah.

Notes: I have only seen the anime and read some scanlations of some of the manga. But I love the anime, and I love one of Muraki's lines in the final episode. And now, the anime episodes are getting passed around amongst friends, so it'll be a while before I get them back… **sigh**

This is my first Yami no Matsuei fic~! No I'm not pleading pity, just commenting on that fact.

Blood dripped onto the white tile floor, blending in sound with the gentle and slow pitter-patter of the outdoor wintry rain. Crimson, bloody thoughts ran through his head as his eyes flashed dangerously and sharply once again.

His victim lay slain on the mentioned tile floor, heart no longer pulsating the life-giving fluid, heart no longer in the body of the deceased.

He was a god in those last few moments of the victim's life, a god that was to be feared and worshipped as judgment fell into his wonderfully skillful hands. Likened to an archangel, a Shinigami himself, as his victims pleaded for life and he himself had decided against. Power to those who could give life back to the dead corpses. Ecstasy to those who tame death with bloodied hands and arms wide open.

Beautiful angel with silver hair, bringer of the silent message as hands had removed the heart. Death was fickle, and yet death was accepting. Only a god or angel could tame it, and he had tamed it with such eloquence. He was the living embodiment of the intangent phenomenon called death.

"Oh, my arrogant Hisoka, my beautiful Tsuzuki." He grinned, bringing his warm crimson fingers to his lips and licking them gently, feeling as if he was drowning in pleasure in the taste of something like warm iron. "This is another case you will never solve, my naive angels." The blood smeared onto the lens of his glasses, infatuating silver eyes maliciously, one narrow and the other widened horribly. This nameless being before him had been a faceless person in a droning crowd and would never be missed. Ah, but now he was a speck of crimson in those masses of black, white, and gray.

"I've made you beautiful." He wrapped the heart in cloth and stood, deed done. "Come for me, Shinigami."

He was walking outside in the bitter rain that hardly touched him, as if he was an anti-magnet that repelled everything. He saw in his mind his two Shinigami, bathed in crimson and more beautiful than they had ever been before. Their violet and emerald eyes flashed in pain and torment, forcing a grin upon Muraki's face.

It wasn't hard to figure out what his goals were from each time he encountered the two. He could fawn over Tsuzuki and remind Hisoka of what he had done to him, and all the pleasure it had been to feel the boy beneath him, crying out as he raped him and finally, slowly killed him with his curse.

He stopped and looked into a café window, rain now matting his wolfish hair and giving him a sorrowed expression that quite conflicted with his joy.

Two figures sat quarrelling in the café, one with brown hair and violet eyes while the other was blond with emeralds.

"It won't be long." He whispered, putting a single finger on the glass pane, blood washed off before. Fate wanted he and the two to meet over and over again, was it wrong to help Fate along by luring them? A ribbon connected him and Tsuzuki, he was sure of it. It was red indeed, but perhaps it was originally white and was just so stained with blood that it turned crimson.

Hisoka turned to Tsuzuki and proceeded to yell at him. Muraki could not hear the words, for the bustling mankind would not allow it.

Each of them would die someday, each of them would become a rotting corpse in the dirt. But some of them could have their names in the papers before that happened; didn't everyone want fame?

That nameless man would be in the papers soon, just as soon as his body was found. They would never find the killer.

"I may even learn his name." Muraki laughed a cold laugh that seemed to freeze all around him for an instant before the world went on revolving.

All of these humans would die, surely as death was imminent. Death was a part of human existence and every human died someday. Did it matter if he delivered swift judgment upon them like the archangel he was and was consumed in their beauty in death? Did it matter that he bathed himself in blood, if the victim was to die anyway? But as long as it kept Tsuzuki coming to him, so long as his toy would keep following the trail so intangent.

The angel smiled to himself before asking, "I'll never die, will I?" He laughed again. "No, I never will. Neither will you again, Tsuzuki, Hisoka. Even if this body dies, I will live on. And we will repeat forever this endless waltz of bloodshed and lust, for we are all Yami no Matsuei- Descendants of Darkness."


End file.
